Be kind. Do justice. Run humbly.

It's time to post another Black Spike column. . . not because I feel particularly loose or inspired to write these days (the pressure from the Big 0. is mounting, and if people--like me--try to pretend The Olympics is no big deal, they're lying). . . but because I want to erase my last words from the air/eye waves. I've received a great deal of feed-back, flack, gump, etc. from my last article: "There's No 'I' in Team". Even my big brother, who isn't exactly what I would ca1l in the track loop, read the article on the net and left the following message on my machine: "Is that woman going to beat you up?" I feel compelled to remind you readers, critics and supporters both, that this is an opinion column. I don't speak for DO IT SPORTS or the Do Man or any of the other columnists on-line. I speak for me. "I celebrate myself." Not really. That was Whitman's line from Leaves of Grass. I just wanted to see if there were any English majors in the house. My other brother, by the way, left this message on my machine. "Hey. Joan, there is a 'me' in team." Bleeeep. Smart-ass.

Explanations given, let me move on. The other day I read a story in our school paper about an art professor who'd been teaching at UNC for some 30 years. He said he believed he was a good teacher because instead of telling students exactly what they needed to change, he helped them to see their mistakes themselves. "You don't tell them what to do," he claimed. "You open doors. You don't take them by the hand and pull them through." He went on to admonish, "Today's students are too concerned with syllabi and books. They don't want a teacher. They want someone who will read from their textbooks."

I think the same can be said of runners. So often I am approached by people who are searching for the perfect formula, the textbook answer to running fast. Magazines call to interview me about what to eat (the secret recipe?), or how to train for a wicked kick (like I would know--maintaining pace, if I'm lucky, is my kick), or about whether or not hill repeats are beneficial during track season (I think, yes), or my thoughts on racing while pregnant (God, no!). The list goes on. I am flattered to be asked, yet feel ill-equipped to fully answer these questions. My formula for success is just that: MY formula. What works for me--low mileage, high intensity--may not work for someone who, for instance, craves long runs. I try to coach my athletes to coach themselves. I feel the proudest when one of my runners questions a work-out or when he or she makes a suggestion to modify something (especially DURING a work-out which tells me he's keenly listening to his own instincts and finding HIS formula). In fact, I once tried to start a "cooperative coaching group" where all the runners would give each other suggestions and ideas but there would be no one person in charge. . . no fat man with a cigar barking, "Get the lead out!" My idea fizzled out because, I think, most runners prefer having an authority figure telling them what to do. Like the art prof. said, they want someone else to take them by the hand and pull them through.

I, too, sometimes want others to make my decisions for me. For instance, I wish God, Himself, would give me an answer to whether or not I should double 5K/10K at the Olympic Trials (is it a pride thing?). But life doesn't work that way, at least not for me. I'm on one of those crazy journeys where every now and then I sniff out a trail marker--where, if I observe "keenly" I may learn a thing or two from a wise old book. This week's trail marker reads: "You have deceived yourselves in the pride of your hearts, and the strength of your arms. Though you soar aloft like the eagle, though your nest is set among the stars, thence I will bring you down, says the Lord. Turn from power to love. Be kind. Do justice. Walk humbly." --Obadiah 1:4.

Okay, I'm sorry. Don't beat me up. But it still doesn't answer my question, "Do I do the double?"

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